WW 1 Anthology

download WW 1  Anthology

of 17

description

Anthology of members poems and readings

Transcript of WW 1 Anthology

  • 5/19/2018 WW 1 Anthology

    1/17

    1

    KEYWORTH & DISTRICT U3A

    WORLD WAR I HISTORY GROUP

    An Anthology

  • 5/19/2018 WW 1 Anthology

    2/17

    2

    The Memorial Gates, Keyworth

    4

    th

    August 2014

    Foreword

    On the 4thAugust 1914 Britain declared war on Germany and the World was

    plunged into World War I, which was to last until November 1918. To mark the

    centenary of this event the World War I History Group gathered at the

    Memorial Gates to the Rectory Field on the 4

    th

    August this year and membersrecited poems or contributed readings, some of which were dedicated to

    relatives or local residents who gave their lives in this War to end all wars.

    An anthology is presented below.

  • 5/19/2018 WW 1 Anthology

    3/17

    3

    Introduction

    The great catastrophe has come upon Europe. Germany has declared war

    upon Russia. The declaration was handed to the Foreign Minister at St

    Petersburg at 7.30 am on Saturday night by the German Ambassador, who

    thereupon left St Petersburg with his staff.

    The Times, August 3, 1914

    Subsequently

    The Foreign Office issued a statement: Owing to the summary rejection by the

    German Government of the request made by his Majestys Government for

    assurances that the neutrality of Belgium will be respected, his Majestys

    Ambassador to Berlin has received his passports, and his Majestys

    Government declared to the German Government that a state of war exists

    between Great Britain and Germany as from 11pm on August 4, 1914.

    Six weeks earlier on 28th

    June 1914, Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria, [heir

    to the Austrian-Hungarian throne] & his wife [Sophie, Duchess of Hohenberg]

    were assassinated in Sarajevo by Gavrilo Princip, a Bosnian-Serb radical.

    One month later Austria declared war on Serbia and, in response, Russia

    mobilised for war and then Germany declared war on Russia. Successive

    mobilisations and declarations followed to recruit all major European powers to

    the cataclysm of World War One.

    There was a certain inevitability in that sequence of events, even more chilling

    when examined in the light of the horrors and sacrifices of the years to 1918

    and beyond.And yet five days earlier on 25

    thJuly there was no general European awareness

    of that inevitability, but more general uncertainty as to the immediate future.

    Czar Nicholas hesitated to mobilise, Wilhelm II was on holiday on his yacht,

    Poincare of France was also at sea, returning from St Petersburg. Asquith was

    pre-occupied with private affairs, leaving British reaction to Sir Edward Grey.

    Britain had no treaty with France and British participation in a continental war

    was far from inevitable.

  • 5/19/2018 WW 1 Anthology

    4/17

    4

    On 25th July the Russian Ambassador called on Foreign Secretary Grey to

    discuss British reaction to Russian mobilisation should Austria mobilise against

    Serbia. Greys bland diplomatic reply that it would be a perfectly natural

    response unsurprisingly encouraged Russia. Grey had overlooked that

    stopping mobilisation stopped war. Mobilisation was no longer a national

    decision and a penultimate step towards war, it was the start of the sequential

    mobilisation of armies as the driving and irreversible force towards war,

    overriding political judgement and Imperial diktat alike, robbing politicians of the

    time to reflect, to confer and to decide.

    Five days later Russia mobilised, successive mobilisations and declarations of

    war followed so that on 3rd

    August 1914 Grey could observe The lamps are

    going out all over Europe the day before Great Britain and the British Empire

    entered what had begun as a Balkan squabble before pan-European treaties,

    military plans and railway timetables created a pandemic, and ultimately a halfcentury of war.

    Chris Close, August 2014 with acknowledgement to The Times

    Doug Brown

    I now know that I had two great-uncles, killed in action in World War I and it

    seems fitting on this occasion to remember one of them -Private Robert

    Eadie, thought to have enlisted in August 1914 into the 9thBattalion,

    Cameronians (Scottish Rifles), 9thDivision. This was one of six new divisions

    of K1volunteers known as Kitcheners Army.

    Robert was killed in action at the Battle of Loos on the 25thof September 1915,

    age 17.

  • 5/19/2018 WW 1 Anthology

    5/17

    5

    I would now like to read a few verses and the chorus from an Eric Bogle song

    written in 1976 and I quote the writer:

    I wrote this song after a short and sobering tour round one of the vast military

    cemeteries in northern France. There were a lot of Willie McBrides buried

    there. It is known as either no mans land, Willie McBride or perhaps most

    commonly as the Green Fields of France.

  • 5/19/2018 WW 1 Anthology

    6/17

    6

    Whilst generally thought of as an anti-war song, I heard it on the radio the

    other day described as thought provoking and have included verses and

    chorus from a reply written to Erics song by Stephen L. Suffet in 1997.

    Green Fields of France

    Well, how do you do, Private William McBride,

    Do you mind if I sit down here by your graveside?

    And rest for awhile in the warm summer sun,

    I've been walking all day, and I'm nearly done.

    And I see by your gravestone you were only 19

    When you joined the glorious fallen in 1916,

    Well, I hope you died quick and I hope you died clean

    Or, Willie McBride, was it slow and obscene?

    Did they Beat the drum slowly, did they play the pipes lowly?

    Did the rifles fire o'er you as they lowered you down?

    Did the bugles sound The Last Post in chorus?

    Did the pipes play the Flowers of the Forest?

    Eric Bogle, 1976

    Reply from the grave

    My dear friend Eric, this is Willie McBride,

    Today I speak to you across the divide,

    Of years and of distance of life and of death,

    Please let me speak freely with my silent breath.

    It wasn't for King or for England I died.

    It wasn't for glory or the Empire's pride.

    The reason I went was both simple and clear:

    To stand up for freedom did I volunteer.

    Yes, they beat the drum slowly, they played the pipes lowly,

    And the rifles fired o'er me as they lowered me down,

    The band played "The Last Post" in chorus,

    And the pipes played "The Flowers of the Forest."

    Stephen L. Suffet, 1997

  • 5/19/2018 WW 1 Anthology

    7/17

    7

    Ivor Perry

    As the team's head-brass

    As the team's head-brass flashed out on the turnThe lovers disappeared into the wood.

    I sat among the boughs of the fallen elm

    That strewed the angle of the fallow, and

    Watched the plough narrowing a yellow square

    Of charlock. Every time the horses turned

    Instead of treading me down, the ploughman leaned

    Upon the handles to say or ask a word,

    About the weather, next about the war.Scraping the share he faced towards the wood,

    And screwed along the furrow till the brass flashed

    Once more.

    The blizzard felled the elm whose crest

    I sat in, by a woodpecker's round hole,

    The ploughman said. 'When will they take it away?'

    'When the war's over.' So the talk began -

    One minute and an interval of ten,

    A minute more and the same interval.

    'Have you been out?' No.' And don't want to, perhaps?'

    'If I could only come back again, I should.

    I could spare an arm, I shouldn't want to lose

    A leg. If I should lose my head, why, so,

    I should want nothing more...Have many gone

    From here?' 'Yes. 'Many lost?' Yes, a good few.

    Only two teams work on the farm this year.

    One of my mates is dead. The second day

    In France they killed him. It was back in March,

    The very night of the blizzard, too. Now if

    He had stayed here we should have moved the tree.'

    'And I should not have sat here. Everything

    Would have been different. For it would have been

    Another world.' 'Ay, and a better, though

  • 5/19/2018 WW 1 Anthology

    8/17

    8

    If we could see all all might seem good.' Then

    The lovers came out of the wood again:

    The horses started and for the last time

    I watched the clods crumble and topple over

    After the ploughshare and the stumbling team.

    Edward Thomas 1878-1917

    Ken Doyle

    My readings are dedicated to the memory of my mothers older brother L Cpl

    James Green of the 2nd

    Battalion Scots Guards who was killed on the Somme

    on the 25thSept 1916 aged 21.

    The two poems appear on The Polar Bear Memorial at the National Memorial

    Arboretum, Alrewas. The Bear was the first memorial in the Arboretum and is

    dedicated to the 49th

    Infantry West Riding Division (2nd

    World War)

    Who are these men?

    Who are these men who march so proud,

    Who quietly weep, eyes closed, head bowed?These are the men who once were boys,

    Who missed out on youth and all its joys.

    Who are these men with aged faces,

    Who silently count the empty spaces?

    These are the men who gave their all,

    Who fought for their country for freedom for all.

    Who are these men with sorrowful look

    Who can still remember the lives that were took?

    These are the men who saw young men die,

    The price of peace is always high.

    Who are these men who in the midst of pain,

    Whispered comfort to those they would not see again?

    These are the men whose hands held tomorrow,

    Who brought back our future with blood tears and sorrow.

  • 5/19/2018 WW 1 Anthology

    9/17

    9

    Who are these men who promise to keep

    Alive in their hearts the ones God holds asleep?

    These are the men to whom I promise again:

    Veterans, my friendsI will remember them!

    Jodie Johnson1996 (aged 11)

    Fifty Years Late

    I am only a child

    And its hard to explain

    The feelings I have

    As I sit in the rain

    And think of the men

    Who went off to war

    Knowing they would not

    Come home any more

    I cannot say thank you

    To the men left in France

    Who laid down their lives

    To give me a chance

    I cannot say thank you

    To the ones who returned

    For thank you is not

    What those brave men earned

    I owe them my life

    As I live it today

    A life lived in freedom

    Because of that day

    I owe them much more

    Than I can ever repay

    I owe them the lives

    That they gave up that day

    They will live in my heart

    For as long as I live

    And my children will learn

    Of the gift that they give

    Jodie Johnson 1994 (aged 9)

  • 5/19/2018 WW 1 Anthology

    10/17

    10

    David Highley

    Earlier this year I visited the Commonwealth War Commissions Essex FarmMilitary Cemetery, near Ypres where there is a memorial to Major JohnMcCrae. He was a Canadian artillery commander and military doctor. His

    friend, Lt Alexis Helmer, a young Canadian artillery officer, was killed by shellfire during the 2

    ndBattle of Ypres on the 2

    ndMay 1915. John McCrae was

    asked to conduct the burial service and it is believed that later that evening hebegan to draft his now famous poem In Flanders Fields.

    John McCrae, then a Lt Colonel, died on 28thJanuary 1918 of pneumonia and

    was buried with full military honours at Wimereux cemetery near Boulogne.

    In Flanders fields

    In Flanders fields the poppies blow

    Between the crosses, row on row,

    That mark our place; and in the sky

    The larks, still bravely singing, fly

    Scarce heard amid the guns below.

    We are the Dead. Short days agoWe lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

    Loved and were loved, and now we lie

    In Flanders fields.

    Take up our quarrel with the foe:

    To you from failing hands we throw

    The torch; be yours to hold it high.

    If ye break faith with us who dieWe shall not sleep, though poppies grow

    In Flanders fields.

    John McCrae May 1915

  • 5/19/2018 WW 1 Anthology

    11/17

    11

    Lesley Coote

    Among all the Keyworth participants, including many Disneys killed orsurvived, only one woman is known to have served overseas: Ellen Disney.The only woman known to have served in the war with Keyworth connectionsis Ellen Disney who served in the Queen Alexandras Nursing Corps as a staff

    nurse in Baghdad & at Parkhurst.Keyworth & WW1, Howard Fisher 2011

    One of the better known WW I poems written by a woman is Eva DobellsPluck(1916), is based on her experience as a nurse in the Voluntary AidDetachment.

    The poem mentions a boy of 17 and it appears that is the age of the youngest

    Keyworth soldier who died in WW1Samuel Burton died on 6thMarch 1915.

    Pluck

    Crippled for life at seventeen,

    His great eyes seems to question why:

    with both legs smashed it might have been

    Better in that grim trench to die

    Than drag maimed years out helplessly.

    A childso wasted and so white,

    He told a lie to get his way,To march, a man with men, and fight

    While other boys are still at play.

    A gallant lie your heart will say.

    So broke with pain, he shrinks in dread

    To see the dresser drawing near;

    and winds the clothes about his head

    That none may see his heart-sick fear.

    His shaking, strangled sobs you hear.

    But when the dreaded moments there

    Hell face us all, a soldier yet,

    Watch his bared wounds with unmoved air,

    (Though tell-tale lashes still are wet),

    And smoke his Woodbine cigarette.

    Eva Dobell (18761963)

  • 5/19/2018 WW 1 Anthology

    12/17

    12

    Brian Fernley

    The General

    Good-morning; good-morning! the General said

    When we met him last week on our way to the line.

    Now the soldiers he smiled at are most of em dead,

    And were cursing his staff for incompetent swine.

    Hes a cheery old card, grunted Harry to Jack

    As they slogged up to Arras with rifle and pack.

    . . . .

    But he did for them both by his plan of attack.

    Siegfried Sassoon April 1917

    Ivor Perry

    Who made the law? An angry poem!

    Who made the Law that men should die in meadows?

    Who spake the word that blood should splash in lanes?

    Who gave it forth that gardens should be bone-yards?

    Who spread the hills with flesh, and blood, and brains?

    Who made the Law?

    Who made the Law that Death should stalk the village?

    Who spake the word to kill among the sheaves,

    Who gave it forth that death should lurk in hedgerows,

    Who flung the dead among the fallen leaves?

    Who made the Law?

    Those who return shall find that peace endures,

    Find old things old, and know the things they knew,Walk in the garden, slumber by the fireside,

    Share the peace of dawn, and dream amid the dew

    Those who return.

    Those who return shall till the ancient pastures,

    Clean-hearted men shall guide the plough-horse reins,

    Some shall grow apples and flowers in the valleys,

    Some shall go courting in summer down the lanes -

    THOSE WHO RETURN.

  • 5/19/2018 WW 1 Anthology

    13/17

    13

    But who made the Law? The Trees shall whisper to him:

    See, see the blood the splashes on our bark!

    Walking the meadows, he shall hear bones crackle,

    And fleshless mouths shall gibber in silent lanes at dark.

    Who made the Law?

    Who made the Law? At noon upon the hillsideHis ears shall hear a moan, his cheeks shall feel a breath,And all along the valleys, past gardens, crofts, and homesteads,He who made the Law,He who made the Law,He who made the Law shall walk along with Death

    Leslie Coulson 1916

    Leslie Coulson was fatally wounded at the Battle of Le Transloy and died in

    October 1916. Buried in the Commonwealth War Graves Commissions Grove

    Town cemetery at Meaulte with Wymeswold men: Alfred Savage and

    Bramford Sparrow.

    Paul Harris

    Last Post

    A modern slanton the tragic waste & pity of it all, look for theechoes of a WW I contemporary.

    "In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,

    He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

    If poetry could tell it backwards, truth begin.

    That moment shrapnel scythed you to the stinking mud.

    But you get up, amazed,

    Watch bled, bad blood,

    Run upwards from the slime into its wound.

    See lines and lines of British boys

    Rewind back to their trenches,

    Kiss the photographs from home.

    Mothers, sweethearts, sisters,

  • 5/19/2018 WW 1 Anthology

    14/17

    14

    Younger brothers - not entering the story now,

    To die, and die, and die.

    Dolce - no! Decorum - no!

    Pro patria mori.

    You walk away,

    You walk away,

    Drop your gun, fixed bayonet,

    Like all your mates do too.

    Harry, Tommy, Wilfred, Edward, Bert

    And light a cigarette.

    There's coffee in the square,

    Warm, French bread

    And all those thousands dead

    Are shaking dried mud from their hair

    And queuing up for home, freshly alive.

    A lad played Tipperary to the crowd.

    Released from history

    The glistening, healthy horses fit for heroes, kings.

    You lean against a wall, your several million lives still possible

    And crammed with love, work, children,

    Talent, English beer, good food.

    You see the poet tuck away his pocket book and smile.

    If poetry could truly tell it backwards ...

    Then it would."

    Carol Ann Duffy 2009

    An extract from "The Other Side" by Captain Gilbert Frankau, Royal FieldArtillery, who tries to explain "why?"

    From The Other Side

    " ... And if posterity should ask of me

    What high, what base emotions keyed weak flesh

    To face such torments, I would answer: "You!

  • 5/19/2018 WW 1 Anthology

    15/17

    15

    Not for themselves, O daughter, grandsons, sons,

    Your tortured forbears wrought this miracle;

    Not for themselves, accomplished utterly

    This loathliest task of murderous servitude;

    But just because they realised that thus,

    And only thus, by sacrifice, might they

    Secure a world worth living in - for you."

    Captain Gilbert Frankau, 1918

    A Japanese haiku (poem) by the Emperor Hirohito from a period which standsbetween ourselves and World War 1; written during the build up to the attackon Pearl Harbour when apparently he wished for peace but was carried alongby his hawkish advisors. It has a resonance with our world today ...

    "If all men are brothers,

    Then why are the winds and waves so restless?"

    All past lessons forgotten - when will they ever learn? ...

    Chris Close

    Back

    They ask me where I've been,

    And what I've done and seen.

    But what can I reply

    Who know it wasn't I,

    But someone just like me,

    Who went across the sea

    And with my head and hands

    Killed men in foreign lands...

    Though I must bear the blame,

    Because he bore my name.

    Wilfred Gibson (18781962)

  • 5/19/2018 WW 1 Anthology

    16/17

    16

    Sylvia Doyle

    For the Fallenwas written by Robert Laurence Binyon (1869-1943) in midSeptember 1914 a few weeks after the outbreak of the World War I. Duringthese weeks the BEF suffered their worst defeat of the war at the Battle ofMons on 23

    rdAugust.

    Laurence said in 1939 that the fourth stanza came to him first. These wordshave become especially familiar and famous, having been adopted by theRoyal British Legion as an Exhortation for ceremonies of remembrance.

    For the Fallen

    With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,

    England mourns for her children across the sea.

    Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,

    Fallen in the cause of the free.

    Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal

    Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres

    There is music in the midst of desolation

    And a glory that shines upon our tears

    They went with songs to battle, they were young,

    Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.

    They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,

    They fell with their face to the foe.

    They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:

    Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

    At the going down of the sun and in the morning

    We will remember them

    They mingle not their laughing comrades again;

    They sit no longer at familiar tables of home;

    They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;

    They sleep beyond England s foam.

    But where our desires are and our hopes profound,

    Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,

  • 5/19/2018 WW 1 Anthology

    17/17

    17

    To the innermost heart of their own land they are known

    As the stars are known to the Night;

    As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,

    Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain,

    As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,

    To the end, to the end they remain.

    Published in The Times 21stSeptember 1914

    Laurence Binyon (1869-1943)